Page 36 of A Land So Wide

T he stranger returned with a pair of snowshoe hares, holding the rabbits by their haunches, necks snapped, paws dangling.

He hadn’t been long, maybe only ten or fifteen minutes.

In his absence, Greer had gone through her pack, searching for evidence that he’d taken something from her meager possessions.

Nothing had been touched, and she found he’d refilled her canteen with fresh spring water.

The solicitous gesture irked her for reasons she could not name.

She’d wanted to think badly of him, certain his presence was a danger. It was irritating to be proved wrong.

She’d briefly considered leaving, but the woods were pitch-black, and the crackle of the fire was comforting. She’d figure how to extricate herself in the morning, when her belly was filled and the light had returned. Still, she kept the knife close at hand.

To show she could be helpful as well, Greer set to work melting handfuls of snow in her little stew pot, then threw in a scattering of stinging-nettle sprigs. The tea was steeping as he returned.

The stranger hoisted his catch high, letting her inspect the bounty.

“It looks like the Benevolence was on your side,” she admired.

He furrowed his brow, as if not understanding her.

“The Benevolence…” she began, but stopped. He did not recognize the term. “They…” Greer felt too tired to explain. “You brought back a very good catch.”

“Suppose you’ll want them roasted?” he asked, nodding toward the fire.

She laughed. Belatedly, he joined in, and Greer had the strangest sensation that it had not been a joke.

“I’ve made tea, but I’m afraid I only have the one cup. Do you have one in your pack?”

Greer had noticed his lack of supplies as she worked around the camp. There’d been no bag, no pack. It seemed completely improbable that a man who hunted grizzlies would wander into such impenetrable wilds without some sort of kit.

He’d need weapons at the very least—bows and arrows, knives, a rifle with powder and bullets—but she’d wandered a wide circle around the camp—gathering nettles, she’d reasoned as her conscience listed guiltily—and hadn’t seen anything.

Oddly, the missing kit reassured her. She wasn’t the only one quick to distrust.

She stared at him now with innocent eyes, waiting to see how he’d respond.

But the stranger shook his head. “Never been much for tea. You go on and drink up.”

She blinked. “Don’t you want something to warm you, after your long hunt?”

He laughed. “It wasn’t that long.”

“But you must be cold. Take the cup first. We can share.”

The stranger only took the rabbits behind the log for cleaning. Greer saw a quick flash of silver as he removed a knife from some hidden sheath.

He made quick work of the hares, stripping the fur in long, clean swaths before flaying out the body and removing the organs. He skewered the limbs on a branch and set them roasting over the flames.

“No fancy herbs or salts,” he said, more observation than apology.

“It smells wonderful all the same,” Greer said, shifting beneath the thick heft of her cloak and hoping the stranger couldn’t hear the rumble of her stomach.

They settled back into their spots at the fire circle, Greer sipping the bitter tea while the stranger roasted the rabbits, turning the sticks every so often.

Though he seemed content to sit in silence, the inside of Greer jangled, anxiety thrumming and building in her, until the question she longed to ask came bursting out.

“Are you really not going to tell me your name?”

He frowned. “I don’t recall doing anything to give you such an impression.”

“I told you mine, and you didn’t offer yours in return.”

“You never asked.” For the first time since they’d met, a full smile crossed his lips. It was wide and toothy and just a touch lopsided. “Well. Won’t you?”

Greer opened her mouth but laughed with disbelief, unable to form the words.

He stretched out his legs, warming his feet before the fire, clearly enjoying his moment of triumph.

“Oh, kind sir, won’t you tell me your name, please?” she tried, her tone sweet but long-suffering.

“Finn,” he said without preamble. “Noah Finn.”

“Noah,” Greer repeated, testing its feel.

“Finn,” he corrected. He inspected the meat, tapping at a leg. Unsatisfied, he returned the rabbit to the fire. “You know, you haven’t said what you’re doing so far out here. Inland. In the north,” he parroted, and the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“You’ve not asked,” she countered.

He laughed. “Greer Mackenzie, what in the Devil’s blazes are you doing out here, so far from the shores you call home?”

Her first impulse was to join his good humor, but the laugh caught in her throat with the sudden, horrible realization that she had absolutely not told him her last name or where she’d come from.

Greer stared at this stranger—and it didn’t matter that he’d finally shared his name, he was a stranger still—wondering how best to proceed. She was in the middle of the wilderness, alone with a man she knew nothing about. A man who somehow know more of her than he had any right to.

Even if Ellis somehow knew exactly where she was, somehow knew she needed help, he’d never come to her rescue in time should something sour with this stranger called Finn.

Greer was on her own.

“Running away from home.” She threw it out lightly, mischievously, as if she’d not noticed the disturbing intimacy he’d given away. “Isn’t that how all good fairy tales begin?”

He glanced about the trees and, again, she spotted that eye-shine. “Are we in a fairy tale now, do you think?”

She shrugged, though she felt as if she was picking her way across a treacherous spring river. One wrong step and the current could take hold, washing her to peril. “How long have you been out here?”

“Long enough.”

“It’s strange, I’ve never felt such solitude as I did today, but you were so close, exactly when I needed you.”

“Lucky thing.”

She nodded. “Perhaps there are more people in the forest than I first thought. Have you seen many on your travels?”

“Not many.”

“There was a young man heading north earlier, perhaps a day or two ago? Tall, auburn hair?”

Finn shrugged and took the skewers out. “Done, I think.”

“His name is Ellis? Ellis Beaufort?”

He made a helpless expression. “You hungry?”

Greer accepted a stick. “Thank you.”

They fell into silence, though Greer’s head was full of meat tearing, teeth sinking deep.

Finn tore through his allotment, barely bothering to chew the tender meat. He ripped the flesh from the bones with gusto, swallowing quickly before going after another bite.

Though she’d not eaten much since leaving Mistaken, his voracity made Greer queasy. She ate two of the haunches before her stomach revolted, unable to take any more.

“You want the rest?” she offered, handing over the stick.

He bobbed his head, stretched to take it from her, and went to work on the remainder of the rabbit, biting and swallowing and biting and swallowing until the meat was no more.

“We should dispose of the bones, right?” Greer asked. “A ways away from the fire? To keep predators from coming close?”

Finn considered this. “I can if you’re worried.”

“Aren’t you?”

Wordlessly, he shook his head.

“You said it yourself, there are so many things in the forest.”

He shrugged but stood, shucking off the great wool coat he wore.

“What are you doing?” Her question came out sharper than she meant.

He turned, holding out all the bones. She tried to not notice the shine of grease coating his fingers.

“I though you wanted me to get rid of these?”

“I mean your coat. Aren’t you freezing?” She did a double take at his hands. “You’re not even wearing gloves. Or a hat.”

“I’ve always run hot. And it’s not so bad tonight.”

Greer’s breath steamed around her, and it wasn’t until she began to pay attention to it that she realized Finn’s did not.

“Take my coat if you’re so cold,” he offered, nodding toward the discarded garment. “I won’t be long.”

Again, he slipped into the trees, leaving Greer alone at the campsite. She had the strong impulse to throw on her pack and run. There were too many things about Noah Finn that alarmed her.

His eyes.

His strange warmth.

The way he somehow knew her last name, knew she’d come from a town along a shoreline.

She wanted to get as far away from him as she could. Her thumb twitched against the strap of her bag, itching to pick it up. But she stayed still, stayed seated, stayed in the inner glow of the fire and the safety it offered.

There were grizzlies.

And the wolves she’d heard the night before.

And the Bright-Eyeds.

She couldn’t forget the image of those two-toed tracks she’d discovered circling her camp earlier that morning. Or the voice. That sly, singsong voice that had followed after her, teasing and taunting.

Though she didn’t fully believe that this fire, however big and bold it currently seemed, was enough to keep away such a monster, it felt safer here than out in the dark and the cold.

So Greer stayed put and waited for Noah Finn’s return.